(Sorry about the auto-play on the video. I fixed that too. I know it’s annoying.) I was a teacher long before I became a parent. In fact, I balked at parenthood for a long time at least partly BECAUSE I was a teacher: “Why don’t you have kids, Mr C?” “I do. I have 150 of you every day.” Luckily, I was finally persuaded, and now I have a wonderful son. This was when he was four: My boy is almost 10 now. In two years, he will most likely be in my class. I’m not sure how that’s going to play out. If you’re still reading this blog then, you’ll find out as I do. But I think I got a taste the other evening. We were having dinner, and the boy was chewing with his mouth open, a definite no-no around Mom. She’s talked to him about it countless times – sorta like what we do all day every day, except about topic sentences and using paragraphs for God’s sake – and now she’d had enough. Last time, she had threatened to send him outside to eat with the dog if he continued to eat like one. So


